“Somebody’s birthday?” I ask, noticing the balloons hovering nearby. A little blonde in a tiara nods, giving me a tentative smile. “How about I set you up with a better table, then?” I ask, gesturing to the booth that security has just cleared.
There’s an older woman sitting beside the blonde, glaring at me. I’m guessing she’s the mom, and she looks pissed that a fight almost broke out during her daughter’s big day.
“I’ll throw in a free bottle of champagne for the trouble,” I add hastily, scanning the table and noticing a cake in the middle. It’s pink on one side and black on the other, with a namescrawled across the side. “Ashley, right?” I ask, pointing to the fondant. “Let us take care of you tonight.”
The blonde’s face breaks into an excited smile as she rises, urging her friends to follow her.
I help them take the balloons and drinks over to the booth, waving to Marty to come and wipe down the table and take their order. They now have a great view of the club below and fit much more comfortably in the plush leather seats.
I’m about to walk away when the older woman steps up, blocking my path.
I brace myself for a lecture or even threats. These days, a bad review is a powerful tool, and one disgruntled customer can bring your whole business crashing down.
I don’t regret kicking the jerks out, but I know it isn’t how most managers would fix that type of situation. I keep my face carefully neutral as she leans forward.
“Where’d you learn to do that?” she asks, and to my surprise, her tone is almost one of awe.
“Oh,” I say, “well, I’ve worked here a long time. We don’t tolerate touching of any kind. The staff deserve to be safe in their jobs, and anyone who doesn’t respect that will be put in their place.”
“Those guys were being loud and obnoxious to my daughters, and I was about to make a complaint before you came over. I’ve never seen anyone shut a guy up that fast. You’re half his size, and you flipped him like he weighed nothing.”
I smirk. “I’m stronger than I look.”
“I’ll say. You’ve made our night,” she says warmly, glancing at Ashley, who’s gesturing excitedly at the view of the club below.
“So, it’s your daughter’s birthday today?” I ask.
“Both of my daughters. Ashley and Jenny. They’re twins, and it’s their 21sttoday,” she says proudly.
I look over her shoulder as another girl arrives at the table, having returned from the bathroom.
They’re identical twins, but Ashley wears pastels, and Jenny looks more emo. As Jenny takes a seat, her sister excitedly fills her in on why they’ve moved tables, and Jenny grabs the champagne bottle enthusiastically, popping the cork up into the ceiling and squealing with delight.
I chuckle as their mother rolls her eyes with a long sigh.
“Well, I’m a twin myself,” I say. “That means two of everything, I know the rule. Another bottle of champagne will be at your table soon.”
I leave them to shouts of excitement and hoots of laughter as I head to the bar. After a few minutes, Marty comes over, blowing out a breath as she grabs another bottle.
“Everything okay?” I ask. “Sorry, I know you could have handled that guy on your own.”
“Pfft, I won’t say no to you dealing with him. He was such a douche.”
“Anything else I need to know?” I ask, and she shakes her head before nodding at the VIP lounge.
“Really great group in there. Generous tippers and super friendly.”
The VIP lounge is a smaller space on the edge of the Blue Room. It only has two tables inside, separated by a screen with a great view of the club. It’s expensive to rent out, and when I check the schedule, whoever is in there has booked it for the entire night.
“They’ve been buying the most expensive alcohol we have,” Marty continues, grabbing some champagne flutes. “And they keep slipping me twenties.”
Intrigued, I go to the VIP room and step inside. There’s a bunch of Japanese businessmen at the other table, doing shots, and they cheer loudly as I come in.
The other table is a group of drop-dead gorgeous women. They already have several bottles of wine on their table and are dressed in designer clothes that I don’t often see in Jensons. One of them, a stunning brunette, catches my eye.
“Hey! I saw you out there,” she says with an overly smooth voice. “That was awesome. Ladies, this woman is a warrior; she just kicked that turd out on his ass.”
“Did he cause you any problems?” I ask, concerned.
